Light and Shadow Lucy
by SunandShadows
Summary: The boundaries of good and evil are explored from the point of view of a prostitute, Hyde's lover. Strongly influenced by the Fredric March film from 1932.


A/N: This is a new Jekyll & Hyde themed piece. I know, I know -- in Stevenson's original novel there WAS no Lucy, no love/lust interest at all... but it makes better drama this way. ;) This piece is based mostly on the character 'Ivy' in the Fredric March 1932 movie version -- but I called it 'Lucy' because hers is the most well-known of the J/H prostitute characters... And it is somewhat influenced by the musical as well, in which Lucy plays a pivotal role.

A resounding thank-you to Musiquephan, who so kindly volunteered to beta this thing while my usual beta was busy -- 'specially as it's a 'dialect piece' (whew!). Love ya::mwah:

**Light and Shadow (Lucy)**

I've always been a good girl.

Damn good.

An' not for free either;

they pays through the nose for it

– not like they can't afford it anyhow.

Two silver pennies buys a night of delights

the likes of which most toffs have never seen –

two silver pennies for all the 'good' I've got,

an' no one's complained yet.

I gives them just enough to make 'em think they're

in control, then dance away

leaving 'em crying for more.

'Course, they _did_ pay for it,

so more they'll get – eventually.

An' they never leave with 'unfinished business',

if you know what I mean;

every dark little thought an' twisted fantasy –

those what they can't indulge at home

with the little missus –

we wallow in them for hours, rolling an' rutting

like pigs in the muck of their imaginings –

an' though it's trite, it's right,

for in the end ain't they all swine?

An' it's me what ends up with the bacon.

Two silver pennies may not seem like much in the light of day,

not to the likes of some –

but one silver penny buys enough gin

to make a girl lots of new 'friends',

an' then there's still one to put away.

For a rainy day, like.

Thrift is a virtue.

Thrift ain't a virtue _he_ possesses

(if a bastard like him's got any);

throwin' coins like they was handfuls of ashes

at a beggar's funeral,

buyin' up the whole place,

gin or beer for everyone,

an' summat a bit nicer for me an' him.

Champagne, when the sweetest thing I've tasted

these last three years is a night off

when I had the 'flu so bad I couldn't keep my stomach down –

which ain't so good for business,

as you might imagine.

And then find out he wants me all to himself,

an' he's willing to pay for the privilege;

puts me up in a private hotel

where can't no one put their paws on me but 'im.

Only _claws_ is more like.

But for a taste of somethin' sweet,

I'll swallow down the bitter,

an' if it burns like poison as it fills my throat,

at least I've the comfort of _knowin'_ the evil what besets me.

Evil from without;

at least when he mistakes my ribs for a drum or

shakes me like a terrier on a rat,

it's never a surprise,

not like an unexpected pinch or blow from one of them _gentlemen_

what pays only what they's asked to, and is countin'

his days profits in his head in the cab home

before his seed dries on my thigh.

When his fist bleeds my eye black

in creeping fingers of green and blue,

it colors my cheeks fairer –

an' if I take my light from his dark,

well, at last I'm not shiverin' alone

in the shadows of a streetcorner like one of them 'unfortuantes'.

I've got someone what takes care of me,

an' if I cringe from his touch unawares or

breathe a sight easier when his fiery eyes ain't on me no more,

well, that's the price _I_ pay for a corner of the world

where people acts as they _is_ instead of

as they'd like others to think 'em.

I'll take his kind of carin' any day,

over the smilin' lies and smooth insincere simpering

of the men what meets me in the night

but turns their faces away if we pass in the market square,

walkin' with their wives and daughters

as if they ain't got hid between their legs the same as me.

Only them what pays for _mine_ do it with coins –

not bands of gold and a country house

with a groom and a coach an' four.

I'll take my bondage over theirs,

with please an' thanks,

an' my version of 'good' over theirs.

I may not be much, but I'm all I got,

an' I do me own poor best an' not hurt no one on purpose.

Leastaways my chains are mine to break –

unlike them, what's held forever 'til death do ye part'.

Even _he _don't own me,

an' I can fly away whenever I likes…

and death be damned.

--------------------------

AMH

30 May 2005


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